


The God, The Animal, my Obsession

by Emil_Macabre



Series: Neo~Film Noir Homestuck [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Noir, Cop!Equius, Criminal!Gamzee, Film Noir, Humanstuck, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-07
Updated: 2014-05-07
Packaged: 2018-01-23 20:44:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1578956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emil_Macabre/pseuds/Emil_Macabre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Equius Zahhak is a cop turned dirty in a crime filled city. But he has a God by his side and he's finally starting to like the idea of it all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The God, The Animal, my Obsession

**Author's Note:**

> I was watching Sin City when I wrote this. Go figure.

His hair was blond and insane, spiraling around his face and in all directions. He grabbed an elastic band from the bedside table and pulled the thick curls back. Everything was fire and brimstone with him in the bed, with his cut jaw and red tips, but as soon as he got out he was curves and marble. There was a soft click as he opened the lighter. For a moment, just a moment, Zahhak thought it was the click of a gun and his hand slid under the pillow where he kept his own.  
But when his hand just met more fabric instead of steel, he froze.  
The blond devil standing naked beside his bed laughed his deep throaty laugh and the fire from his lighter was visible. He puffed softly on the fresh cigarette and emptied Equius’ bullets onto the bed, the clip completely empty. “Hmh. Guns.” He growled quietly. His voice was the moist kind of gravelly. “It’s there every night. Don’t get the impression that you’re special.” Equius murmured, the smell of their sweat hanging on each other. They were the closest but the farthest they could have been at the same exact time. The cold winter night didn’t even touch them, the heat that radiated from the bed and their mouths when they made contact. There was a special kind of love that could only come from emptiness. From fear. From hate.  
“Gamzee. That blood on your back is going to start to clot. We should clean you up.” He inched toward the light skinned man practically glowing that post sex afterlove that made pregnant women sparkle and young innocent people wish they could cover themselves in glitter and play the naughty virgin for a night.  
Gamzee’s light translucent glowing skin was broken every few inches with nicks and bite marks and long slivery dripping cuts. There was rough, and then there was rough, and then there was this. Equius was too strong for anyone’s own good. He tore his lovers up pretty damn good. He tore Gamzee up pretty damn good.   
Gamzee didn’t mind.  
Equius’ own skin was a harsher sort of leather tanned brown that looked like he had been roughed up more than once, covered head to toe in all those slightly whiter thick and thin lines of proof when he told a story about getting shot or cut or almost killed. Those white lines that his current trick loved to re open and scratch at and occasionally kiss with those warm lips of his. Only warm part of him. The rest was cool to the touch. Only when they were writhing together in some lonely alley or upstairs room rented for a night did his flesh grow warm and slick with Equius’ sweat.   
Sex was their love and love was their hate. Two people that couldn’t stand the world anymore, straight out of damn sin city, with its dirty secrets and lying cops.  
Turns you into a monster. They would both know.  
Equius, the honest cop turned dirty, Gamzee, the bad kid turned worse. They didn’t talk about their pasts. They didn’t like it. They didn’t like being soft, revealing the things they had in common. They would have to kill each other the day they realized they actually loved each other.   
But the gun under the pillow told that story without anyone having to say it. So they both shut up, as Gamzee slid back in between the covers and let Equius pull the stretched to breaking elastic from his hair. There was no way the thing could have held on for too much longer. That elastic was suited for Equius’ hair, his thin, solid black, tightly kept hair, not the tangled thornbush that weaved into Gamzee’s skull. It was golden and made him look even more like a god in the pale December moonlight.  
They didn’t have families, at least not ones they were proud of, to go to that night. So they found each other, like always. Tonight, Gamzee was lighting up in a back alley, his long ratted brown coat hugged tightly around him, the curly blond mane sticking out wildly, dirty purple shoes and smeared paint about his face. He was a regular freak and he always snarled when Equius called him clown. Damn flaxen hair. In that setting sunlight, he practically fucking shone, like some sort of twisted sun from a bad Adam’s family movie. Equius’ beat was down that alley and Gamzee knew it. Had he been waiting? Maybe. But when Equius threatened to take his blunt and take him downtown, Gamzee just laughed, laughed that deep throaty laugh of his and pulled Equius in and kissed him, breathing the thick smoke into his mouth, making him choke. His indigo shirt and black uniform crinkled under the juggalo’s dirty fingernails. He pretended to care just to piss Gamzee off more. It was always so much better when they were mad.  
Gamzee wasn’t hard to piss off. If some people are heartless, and some people are emotional, then that was Gamzee’s godlike. That was his power, he could crush your puny little feelings under the heel of his fucking shoe, but he was easily the most emotional person Equius’d ever met; just in a different way than most.   
He got off of work early that night. The force understood. It was Christmas, after all.  
Christmas. It lost had all meaning to Equius at this point. When he was been a boy and his parents had told him about Jesus and Santa and the trees and presents and like any little boy he’d been happy as hell, until he got to be about twenty and one of his parents was dead and the other kept giving him random shit she found around the house in her drunken stupors. Christmas lost its sheen right around then.  
But here, lying with the criminal of his dreams, he thought about taking the young man home to his mother, the drunk, and watching them hit it off because of how fucked up everything was, and he had a good little laugh to himself. The god in his arms raised an eyebrow at him. “Someone’s got up an some kinda motherfuckin thought he ain’t sharin.” He murmured, his voice deeper than usual in its hushed sort of rockish way. That sandpaper rolling down his cheek and the air into Equius’ ears. God, that was something he couldn’t live without. The white picket fence would have driven him crazy if he had ever actually gotten it and he knew that now. This insane life full of impossible secrets and hushed whispers of things no one was allowed to say and loud gunfire with heat and lightning was his and he was probably gonna die young because of it, with this young twisted thing in his arms when he took his last couple breaths but he would go out with the loudest bang this town had ever seen and he was completely resigned to it.  
In fact, he loved it.

So distasteful... So improper. Hell yes, he thought to himself, as he tightened his arms around Gamzee. “Nothing important, Gamzee.” He whispered into the pierced ear near his mouth, his lip brushing the steel through Gamzee’s lobe. Whispers like that have a tendency to vibrate, that that’s just what it did. It brushed down like warm wind to Gamzee’s brain, hushed and pressing, and Gamzee showed how he felt about it by completely relaxing in the cop’s arms, something he seldom did. His head lay heavy on Equius’ chest and the white sheets felt like tissue as their bodies became completely calm against one another’s. Something about it felt so right it had to be wrong, their limbs and creases and edges all meshing seamlessly. They were a broken jigsaw puzzle. So clean and sticky and cut all at the same time. Love is rarely so simple, and in all honesty, it just wasn’t with them, either. Their love wasn’t even allowed to be spoken about, but it was there, saturated with heat and cussing and blood and tangled limbs and those beautiful calm moments that make you think you’ve up and gone from the real world and landed in some kind of eternal peace, like what it would feel like if heaven really existed and you were lying in the arms of an angel.  
Or, in Equius’ case… a God.

God, yes.


End file.
